


Reboots

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time and space mean nothing to Deadpool, who is dead set on getting some kind of action. </p><p>Tragically, 'meaning nothing' doesn't stop time and space from biting him in the ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reboots

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be something like a gag epilogue for Infractions, but that got really dark really fast and it just wasn't going to work. So I revamped it and have laid it upon you all here: my sole contribution to the altar of Spideypool.

It was midnight. Peter was on his belly and had pulled the covers over his head in an attempt to smother himself to sleep. It was not working. His mind and body were in complete juxtaposition, one riotous while the other was exhausted, and no matter how he tried he could not get them to reconcile. Idly, he wondered if it was worth going out for a short swing. Something thudded against the window pane. He dismissed it as nothing more than a tree branch. That happened all the time.

In his old house. This one didn’t have a tree poised spook him at night. Just like that Peter was wide awake.

“Hi-dee ho, Spidey-O!”

There was a black silhouette in his window. It slipped in with an ease that promised a history of sneaking in half open windows and had the sleek sheen of spandex around the edges, where the moonlight hit and gave the shadows a silky periwinkle outline. Aghast, he snatched his chemistry book from the floor and threw it like a brick. It hit like one too. “OW! Hey, can’t we have dinner first? I thought we were pals –YEOW.” There went calculus.

“Who the hell are you?! Get out!” Peter brandished his biology textbook with peevish menace, hissing darkly, “How did you find me?! Who sent you?!”

“The _internet!_ ”And there Peter lowered the book, incredulous, as he saw the man clasp his hands together and press them against his cheek, sighing like a wistful Disney princess. “I thought the last couple of team ups had warmed you up to the idea. Don’t play shy now! We’re _meant_ to be!”

“Excuse you?” Peter spluttered.

The man began ticking off fingers. “We’re both sassy, we’re cute, super bad, our outfits almost match. We’ve even got a tag on Tumblr!” Then with a manic speed that belonged in a Looney Tunes gag, the strange man whipped out a bag from over his shoulder and began tossing its contents on his bed. “Look! I got wine, I got flowers, I got chocolates, and even a box of chimichangas and some nudie magazines. I was so excited when I heard the news. I mean, the other you is Fats McGee right now—“

“What?” Peter said weakly. His spider sense wasn’t going, and yet…

“—I mean Doctor Octopus. That cad stole your bodacious body! And then he had the nerve to team up with _me_! I feel cheated! Betrayed! But then I heard there was another friendly neighborhood Spidey whose body and soul were intact, _and_ who was totally up for hugs and snuggles. And guess who’s in dire need of hugs and snuggles?” Chalk it up to being bewildered as hell and not quite on his game, but the next thing Peter knew he was dangling from the strange man’s arms in America’s most unwanted bear hug. What felt like several gun and knife holsters pressed perturbingly into his gut. “ME. I want hugs and snuggles! Ow, why are you still hitting me?”

“Let go! You smell like a gas station!” 

“Well I do have some gasoline on me. For emergencies.”

Peter pounded his fist into an unguarded shoulder and was dropped to the floor. He immediately darted over to the light switch, flicked it, and gasped. “ _You!_ ”

It was the mutant hunter from Krakoa. Deadpool. And he was gasping and pointing right back. “ _You!_ ”

“You just said you already know who I am,” Peter slowly pointed out. Even with the reveal, this was feeling less and less like a death threat and more like a bit on Seinfeld. What had happened to the ruthless Deadpool he knew? (And beat up soundly.) “And how do you know that, by the way?”

“Nooooo, no! How can this be?!” Deadpool clutched at his head as if in pain, then came closer and clasped his hands together in a plea. Peter raised a fist in warning but still found his cheeks being squeezed into kissy faces between Deadpool’s fingers. “Please tell me you’re eighteen. Please tell me this is just a cute widdle baby face!” 

One piece of the puzzle fell into place. Outraged, Peter clocked him solely on principle. “YEOWCH. So small, yet powerful. My precious little chili pepper…” 

Peter punched him again and Deadpool toppled away, knocking precariously into his desk. “You came here to _sleep with me?!_ ”

Deadpool was doubled over to hold his newly bruised belly but still sputtered on in his own defense. “Uh – I can neither confirm nor deny – YOU HEAR ME CHRIS HANSEN?” He hobbled over to Peter’s lamp and peered into the top. “I don’t know where your microphones are, but I know you’re here! You’ll never catch me alive! We’re not pedo, okay!”

Then he paused, straightening and looking off into Peter’s ceiling with suspicious concentration. “Yeah, but – well if I had known he was still in Pampers…Oh yeah? Well who’s the dingus who said this was gonna get me laid?! I think that makes you the pedo!”

He said to _absolutely no one._

And that was when Peter Parker had finally had enough. He stomped over to his window and thrust it open as wide as it would go, and then he snatched the man by his belt.

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa! We need to wait a couple years for that now!”

“GET. OUT.”

“AAAAIIIEEEEE!” And there went Deadpool, sailing into the street light opposite. He hit it with a nauseating thud and the thing was clearly dented, but Peter did not feel sorry for him at all.

“And take your crap with you!” The chimichangas bounced off his chest. To his credit he shook them off as if he were tossed out of windows and belted with food all the time. 

“Wait! At least tell me if this is the universe where you have a hot girl clone!”

His answer was a wine bottle smashing in his face. 

“DON’T EVER COME BACK HERE. STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY.” 

The chocolates, flowers and pornography followed (though he paused to leaf through the magazine, before realizing that it was well worn and therefore to be considered toxic waste) and Peter shut his window with a bang and closed the curtains with a vicious zip.

Aunt May had gone to bed long before he had, but she was fixing on a house coat with alarm written all over her face when Peter burst into her room. “Peter! What was all that racket? Who is Chris Hansen?”

He simply gripped her by the shoulders and told her very gravely, “Pack your bags. We need to move all over again.”

They didn’t in the end, but it was a very near thing.

~~ _Two years later…_ ~~

“So I basically was like hey, it’s been two years your time, and there’s like a seventy percent chance you’re eighteen now, so I thought I’d come back and say that I’m super sorry for that thing that time, can you give me a blowjob and we’ll forget the whole thing? The other you is still Ocking it up and it’s kind of lame because it’s the same bod, and yet he’s got the charisma of an ecologically devasting oil spill. Nice duds, by the way. Tres mysterious, all black and red like that. Very Batman Beyond.”

The wind buffeted their ears. Car horns blared below, New York in a full rush hour rage. The boy fidgeted, the soles of his costume scraping against the cement as he took a cautious step towards the man and returned the bouquet of chocolate flowers that had been thrust upon him a mere forty seconds ago. “…I’m…fourteen,” said Spider-Man.

Deadpool cocked his head. It was difficult to say but the way the fabric shifted over his moving mouth might mean he was frowning. “But…time is linear.”

Miles Morales laughed, a little uneasy. No, actually, a lot uneasy. Easy was the opposite of politely turning down a nutjob on a rooftop who handed you chocolates, asked for a blowjob and was wearing something like sixty guns on his person. “I – I think you mean Peter? Peter would have been eighteen. I think. Sorry.” 

The man was deadly silent. Miles began to sweat under his costume. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Without a word, the man thrust the flowers into his belt, tore into one of his pouches and brought out a banged up iPhone with a saccharine pink casing. “Is that a My Little Pony on your phone?”

“You keep your mouth off Fluttershy,” Deadpool muttered as he flicked through screens. “Huh. Oh. Wow, how about that. 20-fucking-11? What am I, stuck in a time warp? How did I not know about this?”

“Were you, uh, dating?” Miles fished.

“Exclusively,” Deadpool insisted, paying him no mind. He was still looking through his phone. 

“But wasn’t he with Mary Jane – and you just asked me if I was eighteen now so you would have had to have been dating when he was – but then…what is…” Miles shook his head violently. “What are – who are you?”

“AHA! Hey, Spider-Tot, what do you think of this one? This one’s going to college right?”

And he spun a picture around for Miles to see. It was a man in a Spider-Man costume. Kind of a weird one, the webbing was off and the way the red tapered into the blue wasn’t right, either. The guy himself looked like Peter Parker, but there was just enough off that Miles was squinting and tilting his head to work out the little incongruities - the eyes a shade too dark, the nose going wrong somewhere around the end and the nostrils. His hair was unruly and thick and stood up off of his head, and he was clearly taller than the real Peter Parker had ever gotten to be. Wrapped in his arms was a girl who looked an awful lot like Gwen Stacy, if she had been taken over by the ghost of a Japanese school girl and ditched every piercing she owned. 

There was a possibility, however slight, that _that thing_ was happening again. Where that other Peter had come through that portal and he was older and really confused, and it was a parallel universe kind of deal. But that guy had looked exactly like a grown up Peter would. That guy was wearing the right costume. And to be quite frank the picture looked like it was supposed to be coming from a broody magazine shoot, with lighting and dramatic posing and ungodly hours spent in Photoshop smoothing out their pores. “Um…”

Deadpool had snatched his phone back and gasped melodramatically, having found something new. “Oh, and it’s a reboot! And they’re only one film in, with three more in the works?” He tugged a gun from a holster and raised it to the skies, and Miles ducked for cover. “ _Jackpot!_ ”

He shot several rounds into the air and sent a flock of pigeons into a terror frenzy. Miles punched him in the gut.

“OW! Wow, you already have the Spidey pissiness down, don’t you?”

“Why are you so crazy?! What is wrong with you? If that guy's from a movie or something then he's just a stupid actor! Are you just hunting down guys dressed up like Spider-Man because you’re…you’re…”

“Kid,” Deadpool clapped a hand on each of Miles’ shoulders, and although his spider sense was not going Miles felt he should probably be tossing him over the edge of the building for the unwarranted violation of his breathing space. “Right now you’re probably going through a lot of icky body changes, and that’s okay, but there are many things you should still not know until you’re way older.”

“I know that Peter Parker would never give you a blow job,” Miles declared.

“MANY THINGS YOU SHOULD STILL NOT KNOW,” Deadpool countered with an incredible and unnecessary volume. “This is probably goodbye, so try not to cry for me, baby Donald Glover. I’d say I’d come back to visit but this universe is kind of balls.”

So, was it a universe thing then? If he asked outright would he be breaking some secret, alien no-touchy-the-timestream law? Miles grimaced and tried to wiggle out of his grip. “You’re like triple decker insane.”

Deadpool squeezed him into a tight embrace. Miles could feel the chocolate flowers crunch between them. They had still been in Deadpools belt. “And you’re just the schnookiest little guy that ever punched a burglar. If this dump gets any ballsier let me know and Pete and I’ll come adopt you.”

“That’s not Peter, that’s a guy in a costume! You literally said it was a movie!”

“Oh, ye of little knowledge of things that are dreamt of in your heaven and earth.” Deadpool released him at last, and Miles noticed with dismay that some of the chocolate had melted into the fronts of both of their costumes. “I may have been misquoting that. Toodles!”

And the man reared back, and hurled himself off the ledge of the building. Miles shrieked (and was a little ashamed for it) and ran to the edge, but he couldn’t see the man’s falling figure anywhere. 

Probably for the best. Miles cringed and double checked the rest of the roof, but found no signs that the man had ever been there at all. With a shake of his head, he fired off a web. He could go to S.H.I.E.L.D. and see if they had a way of checking on the guy. Maybe he should warn the other older Peter that an unhinged gunman was coming to make out with him and gift him a smushed up chocolate bouquet.

Miles thought about that. He thought about how it might sound out loud. To Nick Fury. And Tony Stark. And probably Spider-Woman as well. He made the sharpest U-turn possible and put his back to the Triskelion.

He was going to go home and eat hot pockets. Hot pockets were simple, like how he desperately wished his life could be.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: I UPLOADED THE WRONG VERSION THE FIRST TIME. This is now the final draft - the main difference being that Spider-Men has been taken into account. Whoops?


End file.
